Susan Mallery - The Best Bride

He could see Elizabeth in something like this. It would fall about midcalf on her. Not the least bit sexy; the cotton wasn’t see-through. And yet—

He brushed his thumb over the soft cloth. There were always plenty of women around him. Just because he wasn’t good husband material didn’t mean he wasn’t a great date and an accomplished flirt. But he’d liked living with a woman. He missed the day-to-day familiarities, the verbal shorthand, the slow, sensual sex that could take hours. There’d been no need to hurry; he and Julie were supposed to have had a lifetime.

“Getting soft, Haynes,” he muttered, then shoved the nightgown into the suitcase.

He opened drawers and pulled out clothes, ignoring the feel of the lacy panties and bras, quickly filling the luggage. When everything was packed, he loaded the trunk of the car and paid the motel bill. Then he headed for the hospital.

He didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw her. If she’d made other plans, he would drive her to where she was going and be done with her. If she hadn’t, she was coming home with him. There was no way in hell he was going to let her and Mandy tough it out in that tiny motel for the next three weeks. Tough it out, hell. They would starve.

As Travis walked down the hospital corridor he wondered which it would be. He’d left her sputtering yesterday when he’d made his announcement that he intended to take her to his place. Last night, when he’d called to let Mandy talk to her mother, Elizabeth had been coolly insistent that she was not his problem. Louise had told him to use the famous Haynes charm, but he hadn’t felt right about sweet-talking Elizabeth into anything.

He reached her door and pushed it open. She sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in the same shorts and tank top she’d been wearing Friday. Her hair was freshly washed and hanging loose about her shoulders in a mass of shining brown waves. A wisp of bangs reached almost to her eyebrows.

She was trying to pull on socks and didn’t see him in the doorway. She bent down to slip on her socks, but she only got halfway there before grunting in pain and straightening. She raised her left foot toward her right knee, but that action caused her to clutch her side.

“Of course you’d rather rip out your stitches than ask for help,” he said from his place in the doorway. He pushed back his Stetson and walked into the room.

She looked up and stared at him. Faint color stained her cheeks. “I’m not leaving with you,” she said flatly.

“Fine. Where are you going?”

“Back to the motel.” Fire flashed in her brown eyes. “I’ve already called for a cab.”

He walked forward slowly, stopping when he was in front of her. Even sitting on the hospital bed, she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze.

“Not while I’m around,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “This isn’t Los Angeles, Elizabeth. It’s a small town, and it’s Labor Day weekend. Most of the businesses are closed, including the restaurants. How are you going to feed Mandy? There’s no kitchen in your motel room. Is she registered for school?”

Elizabeth slowly shook her head.

“Who’s going to do that? Who’s going to walk her to her class on the first day? Even if you find take-out places to deliver food, do you have the cash to pay for it, or are you going to have Mandy go to the bank to get more money?”

“Stop it,” she said softly. “Just stop it.”

Defeat darkened her eyes and made her shoulders slump forward. He felt like a heel, but there was more at stake here than her pride.

“You’ve got to think of Mandy,” he said, perching next to her on the bed.

“She’s all I have thought of. I’ve lain in this bed thinking about nothing else.” She brushed her bangs off her forehead. “I just wanted to make a fresh start.”

“You have. So things aren’t going exactly as you planned them. It could be worse.”

“Yeah?” She turned her head to look at him. “How?”

He grinned. “It could be raining.”

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “I happen to like rain.”

“Sit back,” he said, jerking his head toward the pillows.

“Why?”

He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. He was close enough to see three faint freckles on her nose, close enough to inhale the scent of her body. It wasn’t that spicy perfume, but it was still mighty appealing. Close enough to see the rise and fall of her breasts under her red tank top. Close enough to study the shape of her full mouth and feel the stirrings in his body. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes got his attention, but when the lady in question came in a package this tempting, it was hard to think about anything else.

It was part of his job, he told himself. He would have taken her in if she’d been a fifty-year-old man with grandkids. Yeah, he would have taken her in, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.

“Do it,” he growled.

She scrambled away from him and leaned against the pillows, drawing her legs up onto the bed. He grabbed one ankle and set her heel on his thigh. She started to pull away. He clamped down.

“You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met,” he said, slipping the sock over her foot.

She had small feet, and her toenails were polished a bright pink, he noticed as he slid on her athletic shoe and tightened the laces. Trim ankles and a nice tan. He thought briefly about tan lines, where they would start and end and what color her pale breasts would be, then he told himself he was on duty and to can the sexual interest.

He put that foot down on the bed and grabbed the other one. When he pulled the sock over her instep, his thumb brushed against her skin. She jumped and giggled. He looked up. “Ticklish?”

“Very.” Her smile faded. “Thank you for everything.” He studied her for a moment. “I live in a big old house on the edge of town. Six bedrooms. I’m restoring it. There’s a yard and a playroom and a lock on the bedroom door. I’ll charge you twenty bucks a night if it makes you feel better. When you can move around, you can cook me dinner on the nights my housekeeper doesn’t work, because I’m damn tired of frozen dinners zapped in my microwave. If you still feel guilty, you can even do my laundry. Louise will be thrilled. In three weeks, when you can drive, you can move into your own place and we’ll part friends. Deal?”

She searched his face as if trying to see what he got out of the offer. He wanted to tell her it was just his job, but he knew deep in his heart he would be lying. He would have made the offer if she’d been old and bald and male, but he wouldn’t have wanted her to say yes so badly. It was, he realized with a touch of chagrin, his way of playing house. He would never have a family of his own, so for three weeks, he could pretend.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said slowly, “it’s just that—”

“You don’t trust me.”

She stared down at her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s not personal.”

“You don’t have a choice, darlin’. I’m the best of a bad situation. Where else are you going to go?”

She bit her lower lip, then looked at him. The raw pain in her eyes made him straighten. It wasn’t about physical discomfort, he thought, wanting to turn away, but unable to tear his gaze from hers. It was about some secret in her past. She’d said she’d come to Glenwood to make a fresh beginning. He understood that. Lots of people left places to start over. But she’d left something mean and ugly behind. Something big enough to make her not trust anyone. A man. He wondered what the bastard had done to her.

She nodded once. “If it wasn’t for Mandy, I’d say no, but you’re right. I don’t have a choice. She’s the most important part of my life. I accept your offer.” She held out her hand, then drew it back. “But I won’t do your laundry.”